Wild Honey
by ladylazarus1
Summary: Hermione struggles against an illicit infatuation with Professor Sinistra whilst Draco uses this information to wreak a complex form of abuse


Wild Honey

Hermione laid down her book on her pillow, snapped off her torch and stared unseeingly into the gloom. Her mind wandered, as it often did, to the lessons that day. She half smiled to herself. Imagine the thought of anyone guessing that she had taken one of her NEWT subjects based on an infatuation with the teacher. Her... Hermione Granger, dedicated student of...

"This is a serious astronomy lesson," said Professor Sinistra, clapping her hands together and gazing sternly upon the class. "You have the most serious exams of your education coming up in less than four months and this is not the time for idle chatter." She sighed, tucking a stray lock of silvery blonde hair behind her ear, unaware of the resolute stare of Hermione in the front row. She was flanked by Ron and Harry, the former writing a note on a scrap of blotting paper to Seamus (gossiping in the row behind) and the latter doodling little broomstick formations absorbedly. Hermione, also with a pen in her hand, was writing diligently, taking down in note every point the teacher made, looking up constantly to gaze upon her face. 

Hermione blinked. Sunlight was seeping in through the cracks of the heavy drapes. Somehow, it was morning. The door opened and a figure came stealthily in. Hermione groaned and glanced at her watch.

"Draco..." she whispered, so as not to wake the other girls. "Why are you in here at this hour?" She shot him an exasperated look and he grinned back and sat down heavily on her bed, twitching the drapery on her bed between his long thin fingers.

"Just felt like it," he shrugged, and then smiled, a glint in his oceanic eyes. "Dreaming about you know who again?"

"Draco!" she thundered, looking round nervously. 

"Oh come on, you love it," he said, lying down next to her and taking her hand. "Just think of it... her hand running up the inside of your thigh..." Hermione shivered.

"You get more and more like Ron every day," she said derisorily, trying to keep her voice steady. "In fact, you're probably worse."

"Come on, Hermione," Draco said, shifting so that he lay across her, running a hand across her breast. "You might as well admit it to yourself, about your depraved lesbian leanings." She looked back at him, then glanced unseeingly into the distance, denying nothing. What else could she really do? 

Draco ran his hand through her hair and fingered at her nightdress. "Come on then," he said. "Let's get you some breakfast."

Hermione threw on her dressing gown and they ran, bare-foot, through the halls and down the stairs to the Great Hall, where they dined alone at the breakfast table. Everyone else was still asleep. Draco stared at her across the table, the merest hint of a loaded smile playing around his lips as he worried a plate of cooling scrambled eggs with a fork, not putting any to his lips. Hermione flushed and busied herself with spreading a scraping of butter on her toast. Draco was a difficulty. He had found about her secret... it didn't really matter how. And of course she had been forced to entertain his every twisted whim, because whatever he did to her, nothing could possibly be as bad as the whole school finding out. Harry and Ron discovering how tainted and depraved she was. Because of course, that was the only alternative. Draco held all the power and he dangled it maliciously just above her face, all the while playing the game with a charming smile on his. 

Of course if that was the entire simplicity of the affair then she would be able to cope. Not for nothing was she the daughter of her mother, able to shut off her emotions when the occasion so called for it. But no. She couldn't just despise him, because with every needless movement of his slim arms and assured glance he reminded her more and more of Sinistra. The smile, secure in the knowledge of how outstanding they both were. Professor Sinistra was commonly known as the most brilliant of the teachers, even putting McGonagall to shame occasionally with her expertise and sheer piercing intelligence. Draco, though not academically luminescent was nevertheless very bright, his every word and glance loaded with piercing cunning. And then there was the physical similarity. The poker straight silver hair, the eyes the colour of stormy coastline mornings, the sharp cheekbones and slim frames, Sinistra boyishly figured and Draco androgynous in his petite frame. Like a modern-day Orlando, they embodied each others' flaws and perfections and it was this that bound Hermione to Draco, having to settle for second-best.

That lunchtime after a typically nondescript Potions lesson, where Draco kept up his sneering front perfectly and Hermione remained silent, hiding behind her hair and she carefully tipped mixtures from her glass phials into the cauldron with precision, she retired to her dormitory, full of the knowledge of the inevitable. There was a knock at the door. He entered before she even had time to answer. He didn't speak this time, just strode to her bed and pushed her brusquely back onto the pillows. He kissed her roughly, unbuttoning her robes. She ran her hands to the fastening of his jeans that sheathed his slender hips, and shut her eyes. 

*

"Well, this was pretty much cut and dried," said Professor Sinistra, smiling slightly as she handed back Hermione's latest essay. Hermione glanced at the green ink at the top of the first page; "97%, excellent work, very cogently expressed – well done." In a lower voice the teacher said, "I was extremely impressed, Hermione. If you keep this up then you're certainly on track for the top in your NEWT." Hermione's skin tingled under her touch as Sinistra rested a reassuring hand on her pupil's shoulder for a fleeting moment. As she walked away, Hermione turned back to her textbook, staring furiously at the tiny text, her eyes not really focused despite herself. Justin Finch Fletchly elbowed her and asked an inane question. Hermione answered him, sighing inside. Surely even Justin could understand such a facile concept... But no. She shivered with irritation. Everything irritated her in Astronomy lessons. The way that people time-wasted with idiotic observations that she could see from the twitch in Professor Sinistra's face perplexed her too, the way that some people could always be relied upon to have never down the homework or written their presentation for the group. 

She couldn't know of course that behind her back Harry and Ron sniggered about how she had found a kindred spirit in the Astronomy teacher, someone even more perfect and demanding than herself. It was true that though Sinistra was respected for her intellect, and there was no doubt that she was a very good teacher, her expectation of as much single-minded devotion to the subject from her pupils as she gave herself lead to a great deal of resentment. As Ron put it, she seemed irritated to discover that most people were not as brilliant as herself. 

*

Hermione flinched at her touch, words choked back in her throat. Her pale fingers ran over her body, Hermione's eyes flicking away, staring blindly into a haze of blue and grey, an inescapable pool. She shuddered and the cry escaped her lips. Reality drenched her and the pallid body clutching her own was not female but male. The flawed fantasy died. Her fists flew out and she lunged, flipping her whole body up, smothered with sudden claustrophobia. She hit and hit until she felt warm sticky blood on her hands and the body on top of her stopped struggling. He spun away and fell with a thud to the floor and she heard stumbling footsteps to the door.

A panting voice whispered out through the darkness, "Well, until next time," Draco said breathlessly. And he shut the door behind him, tears in his eyes as he wiped his bleeding nose, relishing the familiar sense of... domesticity.


End file.
